


From The ADHD Brain of Stiles Stilinski

by justsomerain



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ADHD writing, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:46:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsomerain/pseuds/justsomerain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has always had difficulty focusing, and having Derek on his knees in front of him does little for his attention span.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The ADHD Brain of Stiles Stilinski

Stiles would be the first to admit that Derek and he were not on the best of terms, what with the suspecting him of killing people, and him trying to forcefully persuade his best friend to join his pack by recruiting others to fight for him.

  
And there was the whole sneaking into people's houses unannounced. See, vampires and other spooky creatures tended to have rules about entering houses uninvited, but Derek had made it very clear that those type of rules were either complete bullshit or just didn't apply to werewolves. (Though come to think of it, Lydia didn't have any issues with rules like that, so maybe it was just one big bullshit rule.)

  
But Derek seemed to have a knack for breaking and entering when Stiles was about to... Well, you know, being a sexually frustrated teenager means a man needs his privacy every now and again. It was always a scramble to get everything back into place before that fucking asshole would raise an eyebrow, stoic as ever.  
For somebody who didn't like him, Derek sure broke into the house Stiles lived in a lot.

  
Sure, Derek was unlikeable on the best of days, and generally speaking he had been pretty fucking bad at being an Alpha, losing two out of the three teenaged werewolves he had made in what must have been a record time, but there was one thing that even Stiles couldn't deny, no matter how much sarcasm he threw at it.

  
Derek Hale, despite being a stoic asshole who was probably even worse at being a werewolf than Scott was, was attractive as hell.

  
For Stiles it didn't really matter if people were male, or female, or whatever, he'd figured out as much even before Scott had been bitten, generally speaking being hot and kind of intimidating did it for him. See also Lydia Martin, Danny Māhealani, Erica Reyes, Cora Hale, Boyd. Hell, even Jackson Whittemore had occasionally starred in Stiles' fantasies. (Hey, like he could help being sexually attracted to people who were, if you really looked at it, kind of assholes.)

  
But yeah, basically the point was that Derek Hale breaking and entering to glare at him and be a stoic asshole was generally counter productive to the sexual frustration. Not to mention the constant casual shirtlessness. Because for real dude, how is that even fair?

  
Scott had said that no you totally can't smell people's arousal dude, that's so totally a myth, but really, Stiles wasn't all too sure about that.

  
Either way, Derek Hale had managed to disturb Stiles' maybe slightly perverted fantasies about him more than once. (Actually, probably more like more than a dozen times. But who was keeping track, right?)

  
He wasn't entirely sure how some things actually worked when applied in reality, oh the trials of being a virgin, but he was pretty certain that he knew exactly what he wanted to do to Derek. Or have Derek do to him. (If all those crushes on attractive, intimidating assholes, and all the videos he'd jerked off to, were any indication Stiles was pretty certain he wouldn't mind being on the receiving end of being hit and bitten and scratched. During sex. Not during normal day to day life. Really, no.)

  
What he hadn't expected was that despite being an intimidating, angry asshole, Derek Hale was not the type to do such a thing.

  
And what he hadn't expected at all was Derek Hale on his knees in front of him, begging to blow him. Or that he'd like the idea of that.

  
In his fantasies it'd always been Stiles being the subservient ones, with the object of his fantasies generally looming over him, commanding him to do whatever pleased that person. (Unsurprising, with his oral fixation a lot of that involved licking and tasting the other person.)

  
To be on the receiving end of somebody kneeling in front of him was probably already enough to distract him if his brain chemistry wasn't fucked up, but as it was it left him just a little incapacitated. But in a good way, you know.

  
Stiles also wasn't entirely sure just how it had gotten to this, one minute he was about to relieve sexual tension, the next Derek Hale was inside his room, all hungry blue eyes and growling and basically kissing himlike there was no tomorrow.

  
From there it had sort of degenerated to both of them breathing heavy and Stiles clawing his hands into Derek's hair before Derek had dropped to his knees in front of him, and proceeded to ask him if he could, please.

  
Admittedly, usually Stiles prided himself in always having an answer to everything but really, what are you supposed to say when one of the people who tends to star in your sexual fantasies actually drops to his knees to blow you?

  
After stammering out a mostly coherent answer, that was paired with an amount of arm flailing, all he could do was grab a hold of the edge of his desk behind him, leaning back to look down at how Derek Hale, grumpy asshole former-Alpha Derek Hale made quick work of further undoing his trousers, pushing them down Stiles' skinny hips, pulling down his boxershorts with it, in one go.

  
He'd been semi-hard before Derek Hale had basically thrown himself at him, and if he had to be completely honest, Stiles wasn't entirely sure if he would have gotten anywhere near this hard on his own.

  
As Derek licked a wet stripe up his cock for a moment it flashed through Stiles' head that maybe this was just a fantasy gone too far. Hallucinations could feel real, right? But as quick as that thought had come it went, his knees buckling slightly in the process.

  
Fuck, the things he had imagined Derek Hale doing didn't live up to actually feeling it. After what seemed like an eternity of nothing happening at all except the both of them breathing heavily, Derek licked around his head, before wrapping lips around him, his mouth hot and wet, and Stiles couldn't help but buck his hips up.

  
"Fuck. Fuck."

  
His fingers dug into the underside of his desk, as that hot mouth swallowed more of his cock, and Derek wrapped one hand around Stiles' left hip to stop him from twitching his hips, the other wrapping around his shaft, slowly stroking up until lips met circled fingers.

  
"Fuck. Dude."

  
Stiles groaned (ok, fine, so maybe it was more a whimper), nothing he had tried with his own hand had prepared him for this, for hot, wet, a hand around his cock, and the sight of Derek Hale on his knees in front of him. The sight of Derek’s dark head of hair bobbing up and down, with the occasional glimpse of his dick moving into the ex-Alpha’s mouth.

  
He could feel his balls contracting far sooner than he had hoped, hoping beyond hope that he would have been able to last at least a little longer than this. Stiles flexed his hands, hips unconsciously trying to thrust, but kept well in place by Derek's grip, as he worked hard on Stiles' dick, pressing and moving the hand wrapped around the younger boy's shaft, lips slick on hard flesh.

  
"Derek... Please."

  
Stiles was incapable of bringing out much more than that, grunted, stuttering it out as his head suddenly cleared, as if he could see everything, and he bit his lip hard, groaning as he could feel his cock throbbing and hardening. All while Derek kept his mouth around him, hot and wet, his hand moving fast on Stiles' cock, swallowing his cum.

  
"Fuck, dude."

  
As sudden as it had started, it stopped, while in his head the cogs spun faster than even usually, and his muscles relaxed. He could see Derek get up, wipe his mouth with his arm, before glaring menacingly at him, eyebrows drawn together.

  
"Not a word."

  
It took a moment for the words to make sense Stiles. (Just nod and agree stupid, dude, imagine if this were to happen more often.) Seemingly satisfied with the answer the darkhaired werewolf turned on his heels, to climb out of the window to disappeared as fast as he usually did.

  
Not bothering to pull up his trousers Stiles sat down at his deskchair, his brain still turning as he looked down at his crotch.

  
"Holy fucking shit."

  
Well that was going into his spankbank.


End file.
